


And in the Morning... I’m Making Waffles!

by wildglitterwolf



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Cliff cooks, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, During Canon, M/M, Rick and his mood swings, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildglitterwolf/pseuds/wildglitterwolf
Summary: Just a look at Rick and Cliff’s ride home afterLancer, when Rick gets the call about Italy, and the morning after.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	And in the Morning... I’m Making Waffles!

**Author's Note:**

> This came about thinking why it looked like the boys weren’t really talking on the ride home and if Rick had suspicions about what Cliff was up to. That’s all it was gonna be. Then it suddenly tripled in length because these boys are too domestic for my own good.

_Goodbye, Caleb. Hello, Rick. Nice to see your fucking face again._

Rick couldn’t properly describe how relieved he was to get all that shit off his face. It was like he could breathe again! Itchy as hell, fuck. And less handsome, he thinks. But Cliff would probably say otherwise just to make him feel better.

Cliff. There he was, already parked and waiting out front of Columbia like an obedient dog waiting to welcome his master home from work. And if Rick wasn’t so caught up in his own thoughts, he’d probably notice the faint layer of dust on the Cadillac’s tires.

“How do?”

“What a day, shit. I almost lost my shit,” Rick said as he climbs into the car and Cliff starts up the engine. “Flubbed my lines. Em-em-embarrassed myself in front of the whole crew and fucking Jim Stacy. And I fucking got told by some eight year old on top of it.”

“So. Not a good day?”

“Well. No, I-I did have a good… a good…” Rick took a pause as the scent suddenly hit him. “Why… wh-why does it smell l-l-like something died in here?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“Don’t you smell it?” Rick awkwardly turns around and starts sniffing at the seat. “The hell, was something in here? A skunk d-didn’t crawl in did it?” 

“That’s not skunk smell.”

“So you do smell it!”

“Yeah.”

Rick falls back in the seat glaring at him. Cliff obviously knew something but for whatever reason didn’t want to share. And that’s when he noticed it.

“Cliff? Is that…. Is that a f-fucking footprint on m-my car windshield?!”

“Uh. Could be.”

Rick waited until they got to a light stop before pulling himself all the way forward to inspect the prints. “Cliff. What the fuck were you doing while I was at work?”

“Hey look, man. Girl just wanted a ride home, that’s all. Was on my way so thought I’d offer.”

“Did you not smell her before she got in. Was she a- goddamnit, Cliff. Don’t tell me she’s a fucking hippie.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“YOU LET A FUCKING HIPPIE IN HERE?”

“She just wanted a ride.”

“Did she give you more than just a ride?” 

Cliff looked over at him when he noticed there was a shift in tone to his voice that was more than just anger. “Man, you’re jealous, huh?”

“N-no. I’m annoyed you let a-a fucking hippie into my car!”

“Uh huh. Well if it makes you feel any better, I turned her down. Turns out she wasn’t my type.”

“But she offered?”

“What can I say, man? The ladies love me. Well, love me if they ain’t privy to my past, at least.”

Rick just huffs as he takes a drag on his cigarette. He wasn’t unaware of what Cliff could get up to while he was at work. One time he took a cab home early when he couldn’t get a hold of Cliff and found him in the company of two other women skinny-dipping out back. And once in awhile he’d find an article of clothing around the house he knew for certain wasn’t his, and unless Cliff had a lingerie wearing fetish he didn’t know about, probably not Cliff’s either. Luckily Rick hasn’t had any incidents in the past year but he didn’t know if it was because Cliff’s escapades cooled off or if he was just more careful about not getting caught. 

“So was the TV a-a-antenna down?” 

“Yup.”

“Did you fix it?”

“Yuuup.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Rick had already turned his head to look out the window that he missed Cliff’s nod in reply. The lights of the city continued to steadily come alive as Rick watched the glow of the neon and marquees beckon people passing by to their doors down Hollywood Boulevard. He got so entranced that it created an awkward silence in the air, and when it finally dawned on him that he asked Cliff to fix his antenna so they could watch his show tonight but forgot to actually _invite_ Cliff to watch it, his mind started racing through it’s usual swamp of self-doubt.

_Shit, shit! He’s not going to want to stay over now after I just chewed him out! I mean, I’m still fucking mad he used the car as a hippie taxi but not enough that I don’t want him to watch my _F.B.I._ with me._

Rick tries to casually look over while keeping a straight face to see if he could gage Cliff’s mood. Cliff wasn’t looking at him; obviously that means he’s mad and definitely not trying to concentrate on driving or anything! He turns his head back towards the window and takes a drag trying to calm his nerves.

_Yeah, he’s mad, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! But if I had asked him beforehand he’d be telling me right now something’s come up, or he’s tired or, goddamnit, just that he fucking hates my guts and never wants to see me again. But it’s my car!! It’s not my fault! He knows I don’t like hippies, but he’s going to leave me anyways. I deserve it, though. I’m a fucking has-been, no one wants to be seen around with a loser like me._

Rick continued his mental war with himself all the way until the car turned up Cielo Drive and Rick knew it was now or never. He lets José Feliciano voice wash over him to calm him down enough that he hopefully wouldn’t be turning into a stuttering mess. _Damnit, Rick. It’s not like you’re asking him to prom or something major. It’s just to watch your show!_

“You, uh… You want to come in and watch my _F.B.I._?” _And now here comes the part where you get rejected by the prettiest girl in your class all over again._

“Why, I just figured we would. I got a six-pack in the back, thought we’d order a pizza.”

A relief instantly washed over Rick; of course he was just being silly! Cliff doesn’t get angry at him like that. “Alright, alright.”

“You go on in and order, I’ll get the groceries.”

“Pepperoni, banana peppers, galic?”

“Extra cheese, don’t forget.”

Rick gave him another finger pistol like he did earlier in the day. “Extra cheese. You got it.”

Cliff smiles and just shakes his head as he watches Rick head inside. He’s not a mind reader but he can at least read a room (or car, in this case) and he could tell Rick was overthinking something. After the first part of the conversation he just assumed he was just replaying all his fuck ups for the day like usual, but seeing how nervous he was about simply asking him to watch his show tonight made him realize Rick probably thought he was mad at him. And if Cliff was honest, Rick had every reason to be mad at _him_ , not the other way around. 

“What an insecure guy,” Cliff says to himself as he pulls the paper grocery bag and beer cans out of the back of the car and makes his way in.

\---

“Great job, man. Really. You make a great heavy.”

Rick flinched a little as Mr. Schwarz’s warning rang in his mind. “I-I-I don’t know. I’d rather be the hero. People like the h-hero.”

“People also like a good villain.” Cliff watched as Rick’s face scrunched up and looked down at his empty beer can, his fist slowly starting to crush it. “And heroes, sure. They like heroes. Hey, I’m gonna clean up, alright? Need anything else?”

“Hmm?” Rick looks up at him in question before realizing what Cliff said. “Oh, uh, nah. Nah, I-I don’t need a-a-anything.”

“Alright. Take it easy for a bit, man.” Cliff takes the can from Rick and the other empty ones off the table to the kitchen. He sees there’s one slice of pizza left in the box and decides instead of wasting foil wrapping it up that he’d just save the trouble and starts eating it. 

_RIIINNGG!_

“‘Eh, hon? Couldye gitdat?” Cliff says as he secures the pizza in his mouth so his hands are free to toss the beer cans into the empty pizza box.

“The fuck would you be answering it for, it’s my house, shit. Don’t need nobody thinking I got you as my secretary or some shit.”

Cliff chuckles to himself as the phone in the kitchen goes off by him again but Rick takes the one over near the TV area instead. He hears Rick nervously answer (Cliff often observed it was rarely good news whenever Rick got a call when he was over) as he takes the aluminium filled pizza box out the side door to the trash cans. Deciding it was best to give Rick some privacy for a bit, Cliff heads out back to sit and wait for him as he finishes off his pizza while fishing out another cigarette out of the pack in his pocket. Or maybe he should have grabbed that acid-dipped one and gone for a walk? Nah, if it’s bad news, Cliff can’t afford to be tripping while consoling his partner. 

The back door slides open not a moment later before Cliff could even light up as Rick pokes his head out. “Cliff! Get your ass in here, hurry!”

Well that’s either a good sign or a bad sign. Cliff tucks his cigarette behind his ear and heads inside, taking his place back on the couch from earlier in the evening as he listens to Rick continue to jabber away on the phone, frantically writing away on a notepad as he does so.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Next F-Friday? Yeah, I-I think I’m in the clear. I’ll talk to Sam to be sure. Sam Wanamaker. Oh wait, h-h-hold on, he’s here…” Rick rolls the phone onto his shoulder and looks over at Cliff. “Y-y-you can come to I-Italy with me, r-right?”

“Huh? That guy calling you about those Spaghetti Westerns? Though you weren’t gonna do them. ‘They’re a fucking farce’, I believe you said?”

“I-I-I-I didn’t say that!” Rick exclaimed, worried that Mr. Schwarz somehow heard Cliff’s comments and was doing his damndest to correct them. “I love them! Love Spaghetti Westerns.”

Cliff rolls his eyes and plays along. “When?”

“Next Friday.”

“Shit, that soon?”

“It’s only for a-a month. Two tops, m-maybe.”

“Still, gotta make sure Brandy is taken care of.”

“I-I’ll pay for her kennel, shit, just come with me, please. I need you there. I told Mr. Schwarz you’re the best there is for me, and they won’t know about your, uh, p-past over there.”

This is true. This will be the closest Cliff’s gotten to a clean slate in… damn, ever. “Sure. Fine. Not like I got much else going on.” And as soon as he said those words, the huge smile that appeared on Rick’s face made this very large impromptu commitment all worth it.

\---

Cliff overslept, still hungover from the night before. He blinks hard once. Twice. There it is, that’s Rick’s ceiling spinning into view. So the warm body lying half on top of him was not Brandy then, although he could hear her snoring from the floor competing with the snoring coming from the face buried in his neck. Cliff tried to recall what happened last night: Mr. Schwarz… called about getting him a movie in Italy. They’re going to Italy. Rick decided to start packing and calling to inquire about plane tickets. And while Rick did that, Cliff went home to pick up Brandy and pack the few things he needed, despite the fact they still had a few days before they would leave; Cliff just figured it would be easier this way.

By the time Cliff returned, Rick was already dressed in his robe, a Bloody Mary waiting at the bar for Cliff and Rick already working on who the fuck knows what number whiskey sour by now. Cliff feeds Brandy (in which time Rick made another whiskey sour) and puts her cans away in Rick’s cupboards; guess he didn’t really need to buy a lot of groceries after all.

“Here, here, come sit, Cliff. I wanna have a toast, alright? L-l-let’s toast to Italy, goddamn, hope it saves my fucking career.”

“Yeah, especially since you’re going to suffer so horribly, and all. I bet you don’t last a week before your temper blows up due to the language barrier.” 

Rick grinds his teeth a bit as he pushes Cliff’s Bloody Mary over to him once he sits down. “Yeah, who the fuck else do I got to talk to. Another reason you have to come.”

And after that the night became a drunken blur. Although Cliff thinks he did remember dragging Rick to bed once Rick could barely stand any longer. And he’s pretty sure he was too drunk and exhausted himself that he passed out right there as well. But he was also pretty sure Rick wasn’t curled up around him like Cliff was his personal body pillow; that must have happened during the night.

Cliff carefully rolls Rick off him without waking him and goes to freshen up a bit before putting on a pot of coffee and getting starting on breakfast. He had hopes to be spending the night and picked up waffle mix at the store but these were much different circumstances than planned with the celebratory atmosphere. He decides to get festive and finds some sprinkles that he bought for Rick’s birthday cake last year and adds them to the waffle batter once that’s made. And once he has half of the batter used up for plain waffles, he dumps a shit ton of Tabasco into the other half to make himself a special batch. 

Cliff was in the middle of making his Tabasco waffles when he heard groaning and the shuffling of feet before Rick came into view looking like the living dead. Brandy had also woke up and was shepherding Rick along to make sure he didn’t need help. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Rick looks up at him through squinted eyes before he continues his slow walk around the kitchen counter and behind Cliff before retaking his position from earlier on him.

“Oof, careful, man. I’m cooking here.”

“Why’d you leave, you were warm. It got cold.” Rick tightens his grip around Cliff’s waist as he nuzzles his face back into Cliff’s neck. 

“Because I know if you don’t eat soon after getting up you’re extra grumpy through the day. Here. Eat.” Cliff tears a piece off Rick’s pile and holds it over his shoulder to feed him. Rick leans forward a little bit to grab it from his fingers in his mouth as he slowly chews it. 

“Waffle?”

“With sprinkles.”

“How fucking queer.”

“Just like you.”

Rick grumbles but asks for more and Cliff continues to feed him as he flips the waffle iron over. “Give me some of that one, hot off the press.”

“Uh, I don’t think yo-“

“Gimme hot waffle.”

“Well. Can’t argue it won’t be hot…” Cliff tears off some of the Tabasco waffle and within a few seconds the barnacle on his back came off searching for a glass of water. Cliff offers a better solution and shoots some of the Reddi-wip he had for topping into Rick’s mouth. 

“Dairy helps more than water.”

Rick just nods and wipes the tears away as he sucks on the whipped cream trying to cool the burning. 

“Should have gotten up earlier if you wanted your hot waffles.” Cliff drips just the right amount of syrup he knows rick likes on his stack, adds a generous helping of Reddi-wip and even more sprinkles on top. “You make drinks. I make waffles. What a pair.”

“Mmm, I-I should go make some-“

“No. Sit. Eat.” Cliff adds a maraschino cherry for a finishing touch and takes the plate and Rick over to the small kitchen table. He feeds Brandy her breakfast while the last waffle gets cooking.

“So what’s up with the f-f-fancy breakfast, anyways?”

“Celebrate going to Italy, of course.”

Rick looked at him like he had no idea what he was talking about. “Huh? Italy?”

“Yeah, Schwarz called. Said he got you a Spaghetti Western in Italy. We leave Friday.”

It takes another moment before it finally hits Rick. “Oh. Oh, fuck. So that w-wasn’t a dream.”

“Nope.”

“Well, shit. Goddamn. Goddaaamn.” Rick is just smiling and chuckling to himself as he digs into his waffles. Cliff was going to take a wild guess and say that was a positive reaction.

“Hey, could you get me some orange juice, shit. Nearly ate half this without a drink.”

“Uh, we’re out, sorry. Wasn’t on the grocery list you gave me. Got some coffee that’s still warm.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. I’m just thirsty.”

Cliff pours him a cup and tops the rest off in his before tending to the beeping waffle iron. He dresses up his little pile and brings it and the two cups over to the table and sits down. “So you have an idea what you’re renting over there?”

“Probably a place in Rome. Something luxurious, I ain’t living in shit over there.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt,” Cliff chuckles, taking it as a dig against his trailer. “I guess I could find something nearby.”

“Whaddaya mean? You’re s-staying with me.”

“Oh, Rick. That’s nice of ya, but you don’t want to live with me for a month, you’d want me gone after ‘bout a week.”

“Well if we can survive a month or two together there, then I-I think you could survive longer here.”

“Ah, I see what this is. You still want me to move in and are using this as a trial run?”

Rick conveniently shoved the last chunk of waffle into his mouth and took his time chewing. “Meh-beh.”

“Fine. If it goes well and we don’t feel like we can’t stand the sight of each other then I’ll consider it.”

Rick went off to make a few more phone calls while Cliff finished his breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. As far as he knew their off day would be spent trip planning, but he suddenly felt the whirlwind of the last 24 hours catch up to him. Going from being in a dangerous high alert situation to finding out you’re moving out of the country for a couple months on relatively short notice can be overwhelming.

“Gonna take nap, man,” Cliff tells Rick when he’s in-between phone calls.

“Nap? We just got up!”

“Yeah, well… I’m still trying to process everything. That we’re doing this. Haven’t been able to while sober yet.”

Rick realizes he hasn’t really either. The past day had both some extreme lows and highs and the more he thought about it, the more exhausted he started to feel. “You know, that n-nap is starting to sound real good. Real good.”

Cliff doesn’t need another reason to offer Rick his hand and pulls him up and along back to bed. “You want where you were before I rolled you off?”

“If y-you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Cliff flops down on his back and holds an arm open for Rick to crawl under and back into his position from this morning. “Better?”

“Yeah. Don’t push me off again,” Rick says in an almost threatening tone as he secures his body around him even tighter.

“And if I gotta take a piss?”

“Tough.”

“Well. Is this what Italy is gonna be like then?”

“Of course,” Rick says with a yawn as he snuggles down into Cliff’s neck and within seconds is already softly snoring, to Cliff’s amazement.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Cliff softly says to himself, smiling at the thought of Italian nighttime snuggles before passing out with him.


End file.
